


Pour A Little More

by The_Defender (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee, Coffee Shops, M/M, Slav (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/The_Defender
Summary: Slav, a lonely student with a fear of everything, needs a break in the form of the handsom barista at his new favourite coffee shop.





	Pour A Little More

Slav sighed, running a shaking hand through his short hair. He had twenty hours to complete his thesis on trans-dimensional probability theory, and he had the worst writer's block he had ever experienced. Despite his anxiety, he had decided coffee and an all-nighter was the best option here, as the likelihood of it being more successful than sleeping was good enough to risk it.

  
But, once again, due to Slav's massive amount of anxiety, he had no coffee, or way of making coffee, in his tiny apartment. Well, there wasn't much of anything in his apartment really. He was small, below average, at 5"2, and he had very little in terms of personal belongings. Everything he owned could fit in two cardboard boxes, three if you counted his school books. He would know, that's how many he had when he moved in here two years ago at the start of his second year at university. His course in theoretical physics was everything he wanted, but overall very demanding, and it showed in his complete lack of social life. Slav huffed to himself, like he cared, in multiple universes he had many friends. Never mind those were the universes he was an alien...

  
Slav grabbed his jacket off the back of his door and his laptop bag off the kitchen table, and headed out the door into the late November chill. He shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his coat, pulling out the scarf he kept in the one on the right. He made his way down the stairs, making sure to tie his scarf loosely and hold onto the hand rail, going slow enough so as to not miss a step. He swerved around the crack by the stairwell door on the ground floor, and made his way quickly through the front door and out onto the street. Slav moved quickly between the people on the street, using his small stature to his advantage, breath puffing visibly in the cold air. His local coffee shop had closed recently, some sort of drug ring -or was it a failed health and safety test?- that Slav couldn't have cared less about other than that he now had to find a new one. His mental map of the city he lived in wasn't very big, most of it blurry through lack of exploration. But why would he have the need to go anywhere new? It just increased the chances of bad things happening to some form of himself.

  
He had been walking, well, moving quickly between people, for almost ten minutes when he came across a coffee shop that seemed relatively fair priced if his probability served correctly. The outside of the store was painted in what seemed to be pealing purple paint, and if he looked closely he could see it used to be black underneath. The shop's name was 'Sleeping Lions,' written in white but lined in rainbow colours, and Slav could faintly smell the scent of coffee even from just outside the door. Tugging at his scarf, Slav made his way inside, relaxing slightly at the warmth of the coffee shop.

  
Looking around, Slav took in the softly light room, everything coloured by the yellow lights which seemed to be on a dimmer. There were a couple of couches near the walls, and small tables and chairs in the centre of the room, everything painted in the blacks and purples of the outside. The counter rested along the right hand wall, and Slav could just make out a door in the back for the staff. There were only a few people in the shop at the moment, most seeming to be students and teenagers, but all of them ignored his entrance. Slav made his way up to the counter carefully, analysing his new surroundings for any dangers or cracks, and took his time reading the menu. There seemed to be a larger than usual variety in the baked goods, and not much in terms of coffee, but Slav didn't mind, he often forgot which type of coffee he preferred anyway.

  
"I'll be with you in a moment!" A man called from somewhere out of sight, presumably from behind the door to the staff area, and Slav wrung his hands together. What were the chances this man was a serial killer? The friendly guise of coffee shop attendant might mask his true nature of bloodlust and adrenaline seeking, something which was definitely higher than 23% if Slav were to be his next victim.

  
Interrupting his musings, a young man, probably close to Slav's own 24, with a shock of white at the front of his black hair, and wings that could kill on his deep brown eyes appeared from the back. He gave Slav a smile, showing off his teeth and crinkling the scar that ran across his nose, and Slav felt heat in his cheeks. He could still be a serial killer though. "Hi there, my name's Shiro, what can I get you?" The man greeted, and Slav had to clear his throat before answering.

  
"Uh, yes, well, the likelihood of you serving me something that completely contradicts my dietary requirements seems to be low judging by your menu but could increase depending on your work ethic, cross-contamination and comprehensive variables. Therefore I will go for a black coffee to limit chances of death," Slav said confidently, eyes taking in the man, Shiro's, face, before glancing over to take in the state of affairs behind the counter, trying to note how well cared for the equipment was. Just one bit of rust and he could die.

  
"Uh, okay?" Shiro finally said, looking confused, and he turned away slowly, keeping his narrowed eyes on Slav. "What size?"

  
Slav gripped his laptop bag slightly tighter. "Large," he said, rocking forward ever so slightly on his toes. Shiro nodded, turning away fully, setting to work on Slav's order. Well, that definitely lowered the chances on serial killer, but it couldn't be ruled out completely. Plus, Slav considered, he could be the one to drive Shiro to his first murder. It seemed he would be able to achieve it as well, if the scar on his face and the prosthetic limb were anything to go by, Shiro seemed to be a veteran.

  
Slav stood there, watching as Shiro prepared his drink, making sure that he got it right, even if there wasn't much he could do to get it wrong. Shiro seemed nervous by the time he had finished it, handing it over with a quick, "that'll be $2.20, sir" before retreating into the back room once again after giving Slav his change. Glad the interaction was over, Slav found himself a seat at one of the unoccupied tables in the shop, got out his laptop and took a sip of his coffee. Hmm, maybe not black in this universe. He'd try something else once he finished this one.

  
Slav worked until he finished his coffee almost two hours later, and left his laptop open to go up to the counter. Instead of Shiro, a different, younger, man arrived at the counter to serve him. He had black hair long enough to rest on his shoulders and unnaturally purple eyes. "What can I get you?" The teenager asked, and Slav frowned at him. Definitely some serial killer vibes with this one.

  
"Black with four sugars," Slav said instead of informing the boy of how likely he was to murder someone within the next two years, and proceeded to watch him make his drink like he had with Shiro before. This one seemed quicker than the one Shiro had made, and Slav found he had paid for his drink and watched the young man leave in barely any time at all. Well, whatever, he had a thesis to finish and 17 and a half hours to do it in. Again, something off about the coffee, but well enough that he would make it through the next few hours. Slav was carefully to not spill it on his way back to his table, what with his shakey hands and rapid heart rate.

  
By the time he had finished his third coffee (he found out the younger boy was called Keith, and he had milk with two sugars but he still wasn't feeling it), his thesis was practically complete and Slav held off on getting more coffee. It would just mess with his sleep schedule for the next few days and he would be an anxious mess all of tomorrow anyway. As he got up to leave, he spotted Shiro going out to clean the counter, and waved goodbye to him. He got an odd look in return, but Shiro did eventually wave back to him, albeit a bit awkwardly. What's up with him, Slav thought to himself as he made the trek back to his apartment in the dark.


End file.
